Bernard was startled. He had heard of detectives and read about them,
but this was the first time he had been brought face to face with one.
It must be confessed that the quiet little man hardly came up to his
expectations.
“You can open it if you like,” he said.
“Where is the key?”
“I haven’t got it.”
“Young man,” said the detective sternly, “I advise you not to throw any
obstacles in my way. It may do you harm.”
“But,” said Bernard earnestly, “I am speaking the truth. The owner of
the portmanteau no doubt has the key, but he didn’t give it to me.”
“The owner? Isn’t it yours?”
“_No_, sir.”
“Whose is it, then?”
“It belongs to a young man in an ulster, who handed it to me for safe
keeping.”
“Where is the young man?” asked the detective searchingly.
“He got off at Newburg.”
“Leaving the portmanteau with you?”
“Yes.”
“When is he going to get it back from you?”
“I don’t know.”
“And you don’t know his name?”
“No, sir.”
“That seems a very probable story. Young man, there seems to be a good
deal that you don’t know. How long have you known the young man you
speak of?”
“Only since I came on board the boat.”
“I will open the satchel and then will question you further.”
He drew from his pocket a bunch of keys, and finally found one that
fitted the lock. Opening the portmanteau, he drew out some bonds.
“Aha!” he said, “it is as I suspected. These are some of the bonds that
were stolen from Murdock & Co. yesterday.”
“Is it possible?” asked Bernard, in amazement. “That is the robbery I
was reading about in the _Argus_.”
“Exactly,” said the detective, with a sharp look. “Where are the rest?”
“Where are the rest? I am sure I don’t know.”
“Young man, there is no use in trying to deceive me.”
“I am not deceiving you. It is as much a mystery to me as to you.”
“Here are fifteen hundred dollars in bonds. The amount-taken was five
thousand. That leaves a balance of thirty-five hundred dollars.”
“The young man must have taken them out and concealed them in his
ulster.”
“So he wore an ulster?” said the detective, who had not at first noted
this item in Bernard’s description.
“Yes. I told you so.”
“You may be right. On such a warm day as this he would not have worn an
ulster unless he had some object in it. You say he got off at Newburg?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did he tell you he was going to do so?”
“No. He only told me to keep the portmanteau for him.”
“Then how did you know he got off there?”
“After the steamer had started I saw him on the wharf.”
“Did he look as if he had got left?”
“No. He looked as if he had decided to remain there.”
“You positively know nothing of this man?”
“No, sir.”
“How do you account for his leaving the portmanteau in your charge?”
“We had sat and talked together considerably. Perhaps he wanted to have
it found on me,” suggested Bernard, with a sudden thought.
“This may be, although it looks queer. I shall have to place you under
arrest.”
“Why?” asked Bernard, in alarm.
“Because I have found a portion of the missing securities in your
possession.”
“But I told you how that happened.”
“Very true, and your account may be correct—or it may not.”
“You will find it is.”
“What’s your name?”
“Bernard Brooks.”
“Where are you going?”
“To New York.”
“What friends have you there?”
“A guardian.”
“His name.”
“Cornelius McCracken.”
“Are you alone on the boat?”
“No, sir. I have a friend with me—Mr. Joshua Stackpole. There he comes
now.”
Mr. Stackpole looked surprised as he saw Bernard and the detective
together.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“Mr. Stackpole, I have been under the painful necessity of arresting
your young friend.”
“Arresting Bernard? What on earth has he been doing?”
“I have found some of the bonds taken from Murdock & Co. in his
possession.”
Mr. Stackpole looked the picture of amazement.
“Well, that beats me!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get them, Bernard?”
“A young man in an ulster gave me the portmanteau which contained them,
and asked me to keep them for him.”
“That’s straight. I saw the young man myself, and I saw the portmanteau
in his hand. He landed at Newburg; I saw him on the wharf.”
“Yes.”
“Why did he land without them?”
“I don’t know.”
“A part of the bonds were found in the portmanteau—a little less than
one-third,” said the detective. “The rest——”
“Are probably in the young man’s possession.”
“I presume so.”
“Very well! Of course, you know your business, but it seems to me you
ought to have him arrested.”
“I shall telegraph from the next landing to the chief of police at
Newburg to detain him.”
“That is proper.”
“And I shall want your young friend here to testify against him.”
“I can guarantee that he will be ready. It’s a queer thing that the boy
should be mixed up in this affair.”
“I think so myself,” said the detective, not wholly without suspicion.
At the next landing the detective got off, and sent the following
telegram:
“Chief of Police, Newburg:
“Look for a young man about average height, wearing a brown ulster.
Suspected in connection with the Murdock robbery in Albany. Search him.
“Hatch, Detective.
“Wire to me at central office, New York.”
In due time the boat reached New York. By special favor Bernard was
allowed to go to the Grand Union Hotel with Mr. Stackpole on the
guarantee of the latter that his young charge would be ready when
wanted.
At the central office Detective Hatch found the following despatch from
Newburg:
“Party in ulster under arrest. Bonds have been found in inside pockets
of ulster—thirty-five hundred dollars.
“Smith,
“Chief of Newburg Police.”
Detective Hatch rubbed his hands in glee. He telegraphed to Murdock &
Co.: “Bonds recovered and thief in custody.”
While upon this subject it may be stated that the thief was tried,
convicted, and sentenced to a term of imprisonment. Bernard received the
following letter from Murdock & Co.:
“Bernard Brooks:
“We are apprised by Detective Hatch that you have aided him in securing
the bonds of which we were robbed. This has occasioned you some trouble
and inconvenience, and we wish to make you some acknowledgment. We send
you herewith a Waltham gold watch, and hope it may please you.
“Murdock & Co.,
“Bankers and Brokers.”
The watch was a very handsome one, and proved to be a good timekeeper.
It was what Bernard had long desired, but had had very little hope of
securing. Mr. Stackpole bought him a chain to go with it.
“This is my contribution,” he said.
Bernard had been a week in New York, and he thought it high time to call
upon his guardian. He ascertained from the directory that Cornelius
McCracken had an office in Pine Street, and he accordingly betook
himself there one morning.
He went up-stairs to a room on the third floor. On a door he saw the
name Cornelius McCracken, Agent.
He ventured to open the door, and found himself in a room of moderate
size, provided with the usual office furniture.
At a desk in the right hand corner, beside a window, sat a man of medium
size, rather portly, with scanty locks that had once been red, but were
now sprinkled plentifully with gray.
Bernard paused in the doorway and finally said: “Is this Mr. McCracken?”
“Yes,” answered the agent. “Who wants me?”
“I am your ward—Bernard Brooks.”
Mr. McCracken wheeled round in his chair quickly, and fixed a pair of
sharp, ferret-like eyes on Bernard.
“So you have found me at last!” he said. “And now what have you to say
in extenuation of your shameful conduct?”